The Furthest Thing From Me.

Chapter Four - The Furthest Thing From Me.

They lie holding each other. She sighs softly as he runs a hand down her face and lifts her heavy eyes to his. Sleep is ready to take her on its wings, but she wants to talk to him, to clarify the love she feels in words. He presses a finger to her lips; she kisses it and slowly allows herself to slip into unconsciousness. He then slides his hands from around her, quickly slips back into his clothes and leaves.

***

Hermione didn't look back. She let her feet carry her until she was sure he was lost far, far behind her. She dropped down on an old bench that creaked under her and swayed slightly. A painful memory surfaced in the front of her mind.

***

Severus looks deep into her beautiful brown eyes and she stares back, tears swelling, a small whimper just waiting to escape her lips.

He wants to tell her that he'd never before felt as alive as he did when he was with her. That she filled the missing pieces of him. That he loved her with his whole being. But he doesn’t. He leaves her behind.

***

Hermione let the fresh tears roll down her face, not caring that people were staring at her strangely. For some reason this memory was more painful than any other she held. More painful than watching people die during the war, more painful than realizing she didn't love Ron. This memory cut into her like a thousand razor blades each tipped with poison. She remembered all the conversations they'd had. She remembered how they'd both decided early on in the affair that the charade, the visage they portrayed of not being in love was vitally important. She remembered with a stab of guilt that it had been her idea.

***

Severus stood, still staring at the place that she had been standing just a moment ago. He knew he should run, run after her to comfort her. He knew now he had to tell her the truth, explain it to her so that she understood. But wouldn't that just cause her more pain? Knowing that he loved her but couldn't be with her? He knew that if he followed her, somehow, happiness might ensue. But the self-sacrificing part of him that had been his life for such a long time couldn't easily be silenced. He stared for a long time at the place where she had stood and then slowly walked away. The light of the day was beginning to fade, and in the air he could smell excitement from the Muggles around him, eager to get home to their families after a long day of work. As he walked through the cold streets, he reminisced about the night he had realized he loved her.

***

He pushes her against the wall with force that emanates from passion. His hands hold hers firmly above her head. Their kiss is energetic, hungry. Ruefully, she pushes back, and he allows himself to be shoved onto her bed where she joins him. For a moment they hold each other, and it feels like they are looking into each other's souls. She looks down, blushing slightly at the realization of the intensity of his stare. A half smile which flickers across his lips masks his lust and need for her.

You're the dream that hasn't ended,

And I'm still anxious for the rest.

Your words they seem to hang above my head.

You're the bud before the flower,

Unfurls into full bloom.

Captivating beauty,

But it may be all too soon.

You're the song that writes a story,

But leaves a lot to read.

The closest thing to perfect,

But the farthest thing from me.

He realized that this was how he felt. She was everything. Everything, and so, so much more that he had ever wanted. He loved her with ever inch of his being. But he'd sacrificed too many years of his life to feel those emotions, to be able to give himself so entirely to a person. So he leaves her sleeping, in an attempt to stop the world from re-forming.

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A/N: Massive thanks, once again to ArtemisofEphesus, her patience astounds me. I'm sorry for killing her with my awful grammar.

Thanks for reading, hopefully it's beginning to make sense.